the CITY DAILY #2

The Dream of the Dishwasher

The scraps of food that he scrapes off the plates
are weapons of biological warfare
that only he can dispose of properly
The perfectly rounded plates and saucers are perfect models
for flying saucers in the science fiction novel he’s writing
The steam when he opens the dish machine
is reminiscent of the planet Venus
After eight hours a day of doing this
he is happy to return to the reality
of his imagination.

– michael ceraolo

Remembering

dreams get lost in waking
sometimes it becomes unclear
which is which
I remember meeting but I wonder
if we have

a vision
of melting ice
reminds me of
thick glass swirled smoothly over
caramel covered liquid sugar
the scalloped edges of
discarded bottle tops
hidden in the sand
among dead fish and petoskey stones

I drag my toes in circles
and start to dig a moat
I build my castle without buckets
sand sticks to my thighs

your face is familiar but
it seems like there is something
I am not remembering
I never knew

now I need the bucket
to fill the moat
fresh gray water
splashes my calves
Michigan sun between two clouds

I thought time might bring it more in focus
I still have a bottle cap
but somewhere the fossilized stones were left
behind
with other treasures I collected

Your name is lost underneath last nights late night shows
and the waters of lake Superior
I forget more-the more I remember
I remember more-the more I forget

Kimberley Diamond Bones

These are from Issue 1 of the City, August 2002.
http://www.thecitypoetry.com